Our Playground
by jesterjessie
Summary: Quinn finds Santana when she runs out after the RHI/SLY performance. 'The small strip of grass, a rusty playground lying abandoned in the centre, had been their escape, a place to run when needling secrets begged to be shared.'


**Disclaimer: **Still I sit here, bereft of the ownership of Glee.

**Author's note: **I've ignored the Quinn/Beth/Shelby storyline followed by the writers during Season 3 because, frankly, I thought it was ridiculous. Nowt to say apart from that except enjoy!

* * *

A sigh slipped through Quinn's lips as she looked out over the desolate park, the intensity of her gaze almost enough to splinter her windscreen. They hadn't been here in years, or rather, they hadn't been here _together_ in years. She had first seen it as the Fabray car made its way into Lima at the start of the summer before freshman year, excitedly drinking in the scenery of her new home, and she'd soon shared it with Santana, recognising their similarities almost immediately. The small strip of grass, a rusty playground lying abandoned in the centre, had been their escape, a place to run when needling secrets begged to be shared; hugging the outskirts of Lima, it felt far enough away that they could pretend the town didn't exist. When Quinn had first told Santana about Lucy, she'd been clinging to the stiff chains of the swing, her eyes fixed resolutely on her feet as she waited for the other girl's response. When the Latina had revealed the reason the reason she'd disappeared the previous week was because her cousin had been shot, she'd been hanging upside down from the monkey bars, caramel skin masking the flush of the blood rushing to her head.

Throughout their freshman year, and the following summer, they visited the park, tales of lost virginities, errant sisters and familial expectations let loose away from the judgemental streets of the town centre. Neither Quinn nor Santana had ever thought to share their secret hideout with anyone else; not even Brittany, the perennial final third of their gang, was included, as if introducing someone from the outside would somehow taint it. Yet, tainted it had been. The pair hadn't visited the park together since sophomore year, not since the news of Quinn's pregnancy had come to light and broken the trust between them. She could tell Santana had resented her for not telling her, but she'd been worried that the confines of the park, so secure in the past, would this time fail to contain either her secret of her panic. She hadn't stopped visiting, the park becoming a regular haunt in the months following Beth's birth, yet she'd never worked up the courage to ask the brunette along with her, certain she'd brush off her request (though, on a few occasions, she'd looked up only to see the Latina's car pulled up along the edge of the park; whether she was checking on her, or hoping to use the park herself, Quinn had never discovered).

Quinn sighed again, shaking her head free of the newly dredged up memories, and narrowed her eyes against the setting sun. A solitary figure could be seen in the distance, silhouetted against the reddening sky, feet dragging along the floor as she swung gently back and forth. It was obviously Santana, they way her shoulders hunched familiar to anyone who had spent longer than a week in her company.

She didn't know why she hadn't checked here in the first place. It should have been her first thought as the brunette raced out, the echo of the slap she laid on Finn's cheek still reverberating around the auditorium. Instead, she'd wasted countless hours, giving Santana too much time to stew in her own thoughts as she comforted Brittany and shepherded the taller blonde home, entrusting her to Mrs Pierce with the hurried explanation that the Latina had run out of Glee practice before promising Brittany that she would find her. She had received several texts as she drove aimlessly around the town, all offering to help search for the girl, but she rejected all the offers, some more brusquely than others. Why Artie would want to help was beyond her, though she'd been tempted to accept Mike and Tina's help before kindly telling them not to worry; she'd never seen Santana like this, so scared, so vulnerable, and she didn't trust anyone not to accidentally scare her off again or spark a reaction. She didn't fully trust herself, but at least she had plenty of experience of dealing with the brunette when she lashed out because she was hiding something.

Her own texts to the Latina, pleading for her to reveal her whereabouts, or to at least acknowledge Quinn's messages and promise that she was safe, had all been ignored. Quinn had visited everywhere she thought Santana was likely to be, passing between various coffee shops, the cluster of shops that constituted Lima's high street, and the library (Santana's adoration of books was one of her best kept secrets; the comfort both of them found in literature had been something to bond over during the first tentative phase of their friendship). She had frowned at the absence of her friend's car from her driveway, the house empty and dark; unsurprisingly, neither of Santana's parents was home for her to question if they knew where Santana was, though Quinn had a feeling that whatever had pushed the brunette into fleeing wasn't something she had shared with her family. It wasn't until she had mentioned how panicked Brittany had been after the performance that she received a response from the other girl, the brief 'Our playground' doing little to quell Quinn's growing nerves but at least providing her with a destination.

She climbed out of the car slowly, her eyes still fixed on the distant figure, and closed the door softly behind her, trying her best to preserve the thick silence that blanketed the park. It was one of the things they'd most appreciated about the place, its quietness, they way it formed a barrier around them, containing all their softly spoken confessions until they were ready to be let loose. It was a welcome retreat from the pure _noise_ of their everyday lives, days filled with insults launched through megaphones, gossiping students, arguing parents and cruel grandmothers, and the slow glug of glasses being filled with alcohol. Gingerly picking her way across the grass, the cracked earth visible in places where it was the most bare, she revelled in the silence, a familiar sense of calm encompassing her.

* * *

The metal chains creaked in protest as Quinn perched cautiously on the swing next to Santana, then abandoned playground unused to visitors. The other girl made no move to greet her, her gaze remaining fixed on the patch of dirt beneath her feet; only the subtle tightening of her grip on the swing chains showed that the Latina had registered the blonde's presence. Neither of them made any move to speak, the silence resting heavily between them. A gentle breeze fluttered over them, but Quinn ignored the goosebumps it raised on her skin, her own eyes drifting to stare vacantly into the distance. Minutes passed without movement from either girl, memories of hours spent in the same position flickering through Quinn's mind.

"I think even Rachel would have been proud of that departure, had you not slapped her boyfriend," she muttered softly. As abrupt as the girl could be, diving straight into questioning Santana would only cause her walls to shoot up, trapping any potential confession.

"Since when do you call her Rachel?" Santana responded after several minutes, her voice flat as her head stayed down.

"Since I decided she's very welcome to Finn." She didn't miss the flinch that shot through Santana at the footballer's name, her eyebrows furrowing through a mixture of confusion and concern. This was so unlike the Santana she'd grown used to seeing over the past few months, the confident girl who'd asked her back onto the Cheerios at the start of the year; clearly something had happened with the tall boy beyond the casual verbal sparring they'd been engaging in all week, and Santana had just presented her with an opportunity to find out. "Speaking of Finn...what was that?"

Santana stiffened, muscles locking the instant the question left Quinn's lips.

"I...h-he...it's uh..." Quinn reached across the space separating their bodies to tap the back of her wrist twice, a sign they had previously used to tell the other to slow down and take a breath. The Latina nodded gratefully, the ghost of a smile flickering over her lips for a few seconds at the gesture before it faded. "He, uh...he said something about me in the corridors..."

"What, that crap about you being...what was it? Oh, an 'ass-less J-Lo'?" she asked, her voice tinged with a laugh at the poor quality of the insult, confused as to why Santana was suddenly letting Finn's dreadful attempts at insults affect her.

"N-No, not that...it's...I-I'm gay, Q."

The blonde opened her mouth to respond, the words 'I know' ready to fling themselves from the tip of her tongue, before closing it again, teeth smacking against each other at the movement, as she realised that actually, she _didn't_. Sure, she knew that the other girl was sleeping with Brittany, the numerous times she'd walked in on the two of them (without their knowledge, she would often quickly and silently back out of the room only to make enough noise to alert them as she moved to re-enter) providing her with enough evidence of that fact. She had even realised that the two were smitten with each other, the way their fingers constantly sought out each others' or the smiles they reserved for the other ringing more of love than of casual sex. While Brittany was always an open book, gender holding little importance over her attractions, she'd never stopped to ponder the specifics of the brunette's sexuality; whether that was out of a naive belief that Brittany was her exception, or because it had simply always been 'Santana: in love with Brittany', she didn't know.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Santana furiously biting her lip as she waited for a response, and she could imagine that a feeling of nausea, similar to her own when her parents had discovered she was pregnant, was currently clawing its way up the Latina's throat. She knew she should say something, anything, to ease the panic obviously threatening to envelop her friend, yet no words sprang to mind; instead, memories flickered into focus as she recalled how Santana's eyes would dart away in a panic whenever Quinn caught her glancing at another girl in the changing room, how she'd replaced the few posters of female actresses that decorated one of her bedroom walls with a holiday photo montage not long after one of the squad had joked that 'people might start to think you're a dyke'...

"Oh. Right." The run of memories slowly faded, replaced by a sudden realisation of just exactly what Finn must have done for the Latina to have lashed out like she did in the auditorium. She'd seen Santana in a multitude of different situations, and that was definitely the other girl at her most defensive. The blonde felt the burn of anger growing at the back of her mind, a feeling of disgust rising up her throat, but she fought to contain it, at least until she discovered if the gormless footballer had acted intentionally or not.

"R-Right?" Santana spluttered in shock, twisting slightly on the swing to fix Quinn in a wide-eyed stare. "I tell you one of...m-my _biggest_ secret...and all you say is r-right? What does that e-ev-...?"

The blonde held her hand up, cutting her friend off before could work herself up into a full rage.

"Yes, I said right. I'm not disregarding what you said, S, I was just thinking...I'm not going to pretend I'm _completely_ surprised though." She smiled softly as Santana spluttered, reaching over to link her fingers with her friend's caramel ones and squeeze her hand reassuringly. "We used to be best friends, remember? Plus...I've seen how you look at Britt. But that's beside the point...I don't want to sound all preachy and, well, _Rachel_ about this, but honestly, it doesn't matter. I don't care. You're still the same S to me, regardless of the fact that you like boobs."

She softened at the shaky sigh of relief that forced its way past Santana's lips, scarcely able to imagine how powerless the other girl must have felt every day this secret hung over her life, an iron band constantly constricting around her, never letting her fully relax. She had been terrified before she was ready to reveal her pregnancy, yet the blonde realised that the two situations, while similar, weren't entirely comparable; Quinn had been able to mostly move on from Beth, aside from a lingering fear that the girl would grow up to think she had hated her (a train of thought she prayed Shelby would quash immediately), realising that the fact she'd managed to give birth to a beautifully healthy baby girl after everything was a feat of which she should be proud. But Santana would constantly have to deal with the anxiety of how people would react to her sexuality, would always need to worry bigots similar to those who had relentlessly bullied Kurt (suddenly she realised that Santana's viciousness towards the pale boy had been yet another effort at protecting herself). Another pang of anger shot through as she realised Kurt's stepbrother had initially been one of those who so enjoyed making his life a misery. It frightened her, what Santana may have to endure in the coming weeks and months, a lack of a reaction to her revelation unfortunately severely unlikely in a town as close-minded as Lima.

"Thank y-you," the brunette muttered shakily, eyes glistening slightly in the fading sunlight as tears of relief began to gather. She squeezed the blonde's hand, her grip secure as a watery yet firm smile took over her lips, breaking the mask of stress and worry that Quinn only just realised had been hanging over the other girl's face for the past few months.

"So, I think I know but...what did Finn do?"

Santana stiffened again, attempting to jerk her hand away, but Quinn tightened her grip and ducked her head to catch the other girl's eyes as her head dropped.

"I...h-he...I made a comment about his man boobs...and about how he hangs onto Berry's coattails," she began quietly, pausing as a noise of agreement unconsciously slipped out of Quinn's mouth. "Then I walked off...I mean, he wasn't saying anything else...then he just turned and went on, r-really loudly, about how I-I'm a coward...h-how Britt doesn't l-love me back..."

The hand that wasn't being squeezed by Santana, grip tightening as her explanation went on, clenched into a fist against the blonde's thigh as hot rage coursed through her. Never had she been so angry at the tall boy, not even when he had decided he would tell her parents she was pregnant, fury overwhelmed by a nervous terror as she waited for her parents' reaction and a sickening despair as she hurriedly packed a bag. But this...Finn knew just how intolerant McKinley could be after they had all watched Kurt suffer, and to blurt out Santana's secret like that was beyond cruel. It wasn't just exposing the girl, but potentially both her and Brittany in danger.

"I-I mean...I'm a bitch," she continued shakily. "S-So I probably deser-..."

"No," Quinn interrupted sharply, reaching forward to tilt Santana's chin up so the girl was looking at her. "You did _not_ deserve this...nobody deserves something like this. Yeah, poking fun at his relationship with Rachel wasn't the best thing to do, even if it's true, but even so...they were just sarcastic insults. What he did...it's inexcusable, S, so don't you _dare_ blame yourself."

Santana nodded, any argument she might have been about to make fading beneath the blonde's determined gaze and resolute tone of voice. Quinn smiled, watching the belief start to grow in the Latina's eyes. If she wasn't so sure that her friend needed her here, she would already have jumped in her car to find the irresponsible footballer, though what she would do once she found him, she wasn't sure.

"There's going to be an a-advert."

"What?" Quinn asked, confused by the seemingly random continuation of their conversation.

"A-About me..." Santana drew in a deep breath, her lip trembling as she did so, and her eyes slipped from Quinn's face as she twisted her head to gaze off into the distance. "One of the girls who was in the corridor...her uncle's one of the people running against Sue...h-he's using me being g-gay in a campaign advert against her."

The quiet explanation shocked the blonde, her growing fury stymied momentarily as sadness washed over her. Of course, Finn couldn't have predicted that this would happen, but because of his utter stupidity, Santana would be outed across the state. He'd stripped her of her right to decide when and to whom she would come out, and she loathed him for it. All their friends would see it, discover the Latina's secret before she could tell them herself...as would her family, Quinn realised with a small gasp.

"Shit, San...is that even legal?"

The brunette shrugged forlornly, her eyes still fixed on the same distant point. "Who knows...Sue and Kurt's dad didn't seem to think there was anything they could do..."

Quinn sighed, dragging a hand through her hair as she desperately scrambled for something to say, for some way to comfort the girl and distract her from the nightmare that was about to consume her life. She couldn't promise everything was going to be fine, because it most likely _wouldn't_ be; they only had to a take a look at some of their fellow students to see that. Even Santana's own family could be torn apart by the revelation; while she was almost entirely sure that the Latina's parents would be shocked yet supportive, she'd met her grandmother, and the woman was as conservative as she was terrifying.

"I...shit. What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna have to tell them, aren't I? My parents, I mean...rather they hear from me than some sleazy would-be senator. Abuela too..." she murmured mournfully, the frown marring her face showing that was having similar thoughts to the blonde next to her.

She nodded, squeezing the brunette's hand again, and shivered as a stronger breeze blew over the park, the last of the sun finally dipping below the horizon. They couldn't stay here forever; neither of them had a curfew, but she was sure Brittany had probably worn a hole in the floorboards of her house with her nervous pacing. Her phone was probably a near-constant buzz of messages, but she had left it locked in the care, not wanting the noise of any incoming texts to distract Santana.

"I'm so sorry, S."

Santana sighed wearily, finally turning back to the blonde with a small, sad smile playing across her lips. "Me too, Q, me too."

"And about Finn...don't worry about him. We'll sort him out, make him realise what he's done. He'll probably..." She sighed, shaking her head in an attempt to ward off the bitter memories. "He'll probably try and spin some hero bullshit, like he's done you a favour...he did the same thing to me when he told my parents I was pregnant but...I'll make sure nobody buys it."

The brunette nodded before looking up at the sky, eyes widening as the lateness of the evening broke through the fog of panic she'd been sitting in. Stifling a small chuckle, Quinn stood up from her swing, smiling warmly down at Santana for a few seconds before pulling her up next to here.

"C'mon, we should probably go. Britt's probably driving her parents mad with her pacing." She shook her head, poking Santana's cheek as guilt began to cloud the smaller girl's features. "None of that. You needed to get away, she'll understand."

A sheepish smile worked its way onto Santana's lips as she nodded at Quinn's gentle admonishment, and the pair set off across the park, hands still clasped tightly between them as they made their way across the sparse grass.

* * *

"You sure you're okay to drive?" the blonde asked softly once they reached the small square of gravel that served as a parking lot. She wondered whether it wouldn't be a better idea to just offer to drive Santana home, even if the other girl did look much calmer now than when she had first sat down beside her.

"I'll be fine," the brunette reassured her, drawing Quinn into an uncharacteristically tight hug. "But thank you...for everything," she murmured, her voice slightly scratchy.

Quinn shook her head once Santana pulled back, smile plastered across her lips, wordlessly telling her there was no need to thank her. "Call me if you need me, okay?"

Santana nodded and, with a final smile, turned away, heading over to where her car was parked at the opposite end of the gravel. Quinn waited until the Latina has climbed into her car and started it before doing the same, firing off a quick text to Brittany to tell the other blonde that Santana was fine and would probably be heading her way before she followed the other girl's taillights out of the small parking lot and along the road back into town.

It wouldn't be perfect, or easy. Any possibility of that had been shredded the moment Finn had chosen to launch Santana's biggest fear at her through a crowded hallway. No doubt, there would be arguments and judgements, sneers and snide remarks, but she knew the other girl would make it through. She had her, she had Brittany, and she had her own stubborn sense of pride, never dormant for long when people attempted to play on her insecurities.

Quinn smiled, her face painted amber by Santana's indicator, the other girl predictably heading home via Brittany's house.

She would be alright.

* * *

**Author's note: **Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. I'm grateful for any and all reviews (still relatively new to this fanfiction business - this is only my third story), no matter how long they are, so please feel free to leave me one.


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